


When a Great Wheel Runs down a Hill

by blue_pointer



Series: A Glorious Retelling [11]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Canon Timeline, Don't copy to another site, Episode: c01e042 Dangerous Dealings, Friendship, Hair trauma, Hurt/Comfort, Love Triangles, M/M, Metallic Dragon!Gilmore, Minor Keyleth/Vax'ildan (Critical Role), POV Shaun Gilmore, Pike POV, Shaun Gilmore is not Caucasian, Shovel Talk, This hurt me to write, Vax POV, bisexual disaster vax'ildan, conversations in Marquesian, enter Jarett, fun with names, hair tragedy, i hate this, please try polyamory next time, protective friends, read for filth, such a clusterfuck, this episode was a shitshow, well-meaning meddling, when your boyfriend almost died so you decide to fuck someone else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26708206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_pointer/pseuds/blue_pointer
Summary: After Vox Machina returns from the ruins of Emon, Gilmore gets some rest while Vax, Sherri, and Pike fuss over him. Gilmore meets Jarett and solicits his aid with something personal. Vax returns from the incident with the Clasp and does some colossally bad decision-making.
Relationships: Jarett Howarth & Shaun Gilmore, Shaun Gilmore & Sherri, Shaun Gilmore/Vax'ildan
Series: A Glorious Retelling [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1975831
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	1. Fortune, Good Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Gilmore safely settled in Greyskull Keep, Vax butts heads with Sherri over who gets to look after him. Gilmore has a talk with Sherri about mercurial half-elf boys and heartache.

Vax spent the better part of the afternoon playing Pike’s assistant as she took care of the injured refugees. It helped him to have something to do. He felt so useless at times like this, when there was no one to kill or ambush. Also, helping Pike meant he had an excuse to check on Gilmore once per hour. Tempted as Vax was to hover in Percy’s room, Pike made sure he wouldn’t, and that was probably best for Gilmore anyway. Pike even threw Sherri out of Gilmore’s sickroom, which was a feat and a half. If she could get rid of Sherri, Vax knew he didn’t stand a chance. And it was better for his mental health to stay active. It kept him from doing too much thinking about what had happened earlier today. 

As dusk fell, Vox Machina gathered to strategize their next move. After both Pike and Keyleth had done some scrying to get a better idea of where their help was needed most, Vex’ahlia and Percy suggested they start moving the refugees to Whitestone, which was as yet untouched by dragons. At first, it was going to be all of those who were most injured, which maybe made sense, but Vax didn’t like. He wasn’t ready to be away from Gilmore yet, not until Vax was sure he was going to be alright. It turned out to be a moot point, because the girls didn’t want to risk separating families. That meant groups with children went through now with Percy, and Vax got to mother hen Gilmore for a bit longer. 

Speaking of which: knowing they would be off and running as soon as Percy returned, Vax used the opportunity to go check on Gilmore one more time. He nudged Percy’s bedroom door open just enough to see...Sherri had beat him to it. 

“He’d want to know you were worried about him, you know,” she said, giving Vax a similar look to how she had the day he’d tried to take back the breakup--oh, wait. Was that just yesterday? Fuck everything. “But I don’t think I’m going to tell him.” 

Vax stared at her, quietly. “Why?” He was having an inner struggle. Vax’s temper said fight her, this wasn’t fair, he loved Gilmore and Gilmore deserved to know. But his guilt and depression said let it go. 

“Because you’re bad for him,” Sherri said. “You only come around when it suits you, and don’t think I don’t see how you use him to get discounts for your friends.” Vax couldn’t deny that. “I used to think you didn’t care about him at all, that you were just manipulating him...until this morning.” She sniffed, dismissive. “You’re not  _ that _ good of an actor.” 

“I’m not acting at all,” Vax protested.

Sherri held up one hand. “Spare me your noble protests of sincerity. I saw how you acted when you first started coming into the shop. That wasn’t real. But Master Gilmore is a force of nature. He got to you over time, didn’t he? So it’s real now, but it wasn’t at first.” Sherri looked at him over the rim of her glasses. “It scares you, doesn’t it? You don’t understand yourself how you could come to love a man like him. Maybe part of you can’t believe it. That’s why you broke it off, isn’t it? No doubt your father raised you to marry highborn elven women and produce heirs…”

“I can’t deny my feelings for him--” Vax began.

“But you did,” Sherri reminded him. “You chose. That was your mistake. I won’t let you hurt him again. He trusts me.” And she shut the door in his face. 

Vax had half a mind to shoulder back in and give her a piece of his mind. But what would that prove? Sherri was wrong about him, but reacting with violence was no way to prove it. Sighing, Vax wandered back downstairs. He had to focus on the task ahead: making sure they all survived negotiations with the Clasp.

*

Sherri turned back from locking the door and found her master’s eyes open, watching her. “You’re awake!” she said, rushing to his bedside. 

“Sherri. Dear,” Gilmore drawled in that way she’d come to know meant he was not pleased. “Was that my Vax’ildan’s sweet voice I just heard?” 

She couldn’t lie to him. “Yes, Sir.” 

“You wouldn’t perchance have sent him away if he’d come here expressly to see me now, would you?” 

Sherri swallowed, nervous. “Well, Sir, I might have.”

Gilmore patted the blankets next to him, but Sherri was afraid to sit down. Not because she thought in a million years her master would harm her, but because she didn’t want to jostle the mattress and risk his wounds reopening. She drifted a little bit closer, and Gilmore reached out and took her hand. “I can take care of myself, Sherri. Truly.” She started to protest, but he shook his head until she quieted. “This type of boy comes with nothing but heartache. Believe me, I know. But I made the choice to let him in many months ago. It’s done. I knew what I was getting myself into.”

“I just don’t like to see you hurting, Master.” Sherri said, tearing up. He motioned for her to bend down and kissed her forehead, his lips still hot with fever. 

“I appreciate your concern. But I assure you, I can take it.” 

“But you shouldn’t have to!” Sherri protested. 

Gilmore smiled sadly. “Perhaps.” And then, after a moment, he asked with a more rakish smile, “Did you see how he wept for me, though?” 

“He did cry an awful lot for someone who claims to love someone else,” Sherri said. 

“Hearts are funny that way.” Only the ghost of Gilmore’s smile remained now. “They don’t always do what we expect them to.”

“You mean like be in love with only one person at a time?” Sherri asked. 

Gilmore nodded very slightly. “One can hope he may live to realize the fact.” 

Sherri was confused. Was Vax’ildan dying? If so, _ good. _ “Either way, he’d best start treating you better,” she said. “Or he’ll have me to deal with.” 

“A threat, indeed.” Gilmore squeezed her fingers with what little strength he had. “But don’t keep him from me again. Please?” 

With a frustrated sigh, she reluctantly agreed. “Alright. But I do so under duress.” 

One corner of Gilmore’s mouth turned up in an amused smirk. “Duly noted, my dear.” He tried to sit up and immediately thought better of it. Gilmore’s range of motion was severely limited now, which was part of why Sherri had wanted to stay by his side; he would need her to do things and fetch things for him. As she watched, Gilmore gingerly pulled one of the long coils of his hair over his shoulder to examine it. Whatever he found there, he looked devastated. “Sherri dear?” 

“Yes, Master?” 

“Could you do me...just one very small favor?” 

“Anything, Sir.” She needed to be useful after feeling helpless for the last 48 hours. 

“Can you find someone in the keep who looks like me and bring them here? There must be someone. Preferably a woman.”

“A woman who looks like you?” Sherri didn’t quite understand. “You mean Marquesian? I think I did see one man as we came in…” 

“There are Tal’Doreians who will do. Surely not everyone in this keep is fair as you are.” 

“Oh.” Sherri finally understood what he meant. “I’ll see who I can find, Master Gilmore.” 

“Please do.” Eager to be useful, Sherri rushed off to fulfill her mission. 


	2. Smile Once More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilmore has a problem. And maybe a mystery suitor?

While Sherri went in search of individuals who had skin tones darker than calla lilies, Gilmore fretted over what he might possibly do to save his hair. Being confined to bed was one thing. Being confined to bed with burned, breaking hair he’d literally spent decades getting to its present length was another matter. He was afraid to unwind it and see how much was left that could be salvaged. 

After nearly an hour, Sherri finally returned with two companions in tow: a beautiful Tz’arrmian woman with sandy golden skin and straight black hair which fell to just past her shoulders and a fairly perturbed-looking Marquesian guardsman carrying a heavy crossbow. “These were all I could find,” Sherri said, apologetically. 

“Thank you, Sherri. And Mistress…?” he looked to the other woman. 

“Fa Xiaohuang,” the woman offered with a regal nod. 

“Mistress Fa, thank you for coming. You may go rejoin the others with Sherri.”

“Me?” Sherri looked taken aback. 

“I’d like to speak privately with the gentleman, if you don’t mind.” Sherri looked curious, but she did obey, leading the Tz’arrmian woman out of the room. “Oh, and Sherri?” 

She stuck her head back in. “Yes, Master Gilmore?” 

“Have Mistress Pike or Keyleth see to those burns, please. I know you’ve been waiting on my account, but there’s time enough now we’re here.” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

Once they were alone, the young man began to pace a slow semicircle from the door to the window, with Gilmore at its center. “ _I’ve heard of you,”_ he said in Marquesian. _“You are somewhat famous among those of us here in Emon. Rumor has it you fought the dragon last night. Perhaps your reputation is warranted.”_

 _“Ah.”_ Gilmore was uncertain quite how to respond. The young man’s tone sounded intense, incredulous, perhaps even hostile. He was young enough, he might be a follower of the new religion. And those types did not tend to approve of men like Gilmore. _“I was going to request your assistance with something...but I shouldn’t trouble you. You seem to be otherwise engaged.”_

 _“With what?”_ The man stopped and turned to face Gilmore. It felt menacing. 

_“Nevermind. I should not have troubled you. Be pleased.”_ It was just in line with Gilmore’s recent streak of bad luck the one other dark-skinned Marquesian in the keep was a religious zealot. But it was likely he wouldn’t have been any help anyway. His hair was short with loose, wavy curls, a much simpler texture than Gilmore’s. 

_“I will not be pleased,”_ the man said, setting down his crossbow, which didn’t make Gilmore feel any safer. _“Until you tell me your request.”_

 _“You’re...quite forceful.”_ And in other circumstances, Gilmore might have reacted quite differently. But for the moment, he thought there was a possibility he might be in danger. _“I’m having trouble making out your intentions, Sir.”_

Naturally, that only brought the man stalking closer to the bed. He was light on his feet, like a dancer...or a fighter. _“Can it be the glorious Gilt D’amour of Shandal is afraid of a mere weaver’s son?”_

That sounded like a challenge. But what could this man have against him? Gilmore would have remembered meeting him before. _“No one’s called me that for many years. You look far too young to have even heard that name before.”_

The man’s eyes sparkled darkly. _“Perhaps I, too, am more than I look to be.”_ He was right at the edge of Percy’s bed now, and Gilmore glanced around for anything close at hand he could employ as a weapon should it become necessary. Nude and without use of his magic, Gilmore was quite at this man’s mercy, should things turn sour. Perhaps he should not have sent Sherri away so quickly.

 _“You have me at a disadvantage,”_ Gilmore said, trying to stall for as long as possible. _“You know who I am, but I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”_

_“The pleasure is mine.”_ Gilmore was not expecting the man to kneel down and take his hand. But he did, slipping his fingers beneath Gilmore’s to hold them, delicately, as though Gilmore’s hand was a bird perched there. Then he leaned down to press his lips to Gilmore’s knuckles. _“Jarett Howarth.”_ The man gazed up at him just as intensely as before. _“But I hope you will call me Jarett, Lord D’amour.”_

Gilmore was at a loss, and that was rare. He seemed to have taken things quite wrong. He blamed his injury, or perhaps the fatigue. _“Please rise, Jarett,”_ Gilmore said, eyeing the door nervously. There was no telling what would happen if Vax were to walk in just now. _“I think you mistake me for someone I’m not.”_

 _“Oh, I could not mistake you, my lord.”_ Jarett smiled, and it was a sultry, confident smile. _“I know exactly who you are.”_ Gilmore wracked his brain for any memory of Jarett. No, he would certainly remember having bedded this man. Jarett did stand up, though he did not seem ready to let go of Gilmore’s hand. “ _I also know exactly what the Tal’Doreian half-elf oaf said to you in my bar two nights ago.”_

It took a lot to catch Gilmore off-guard. _“_ ** _Your_** _bar?”_ He had said his name was Howarth. How many years had Gilmore been drinking at the speakeasy with no clue it was owned by...well. A Marquesian spymaster, it seemed?

Jarett inclined his head. _“As I said, both of us are more than we seem. I’ve been watching you for a long time, Gilt D’amour. It gives me great pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”_

He spoke like a spireling. Which was fine. Gilmore didn’t judge. He just couldn’t discern exactly what was happening here. Or perhaps what was about to happen. 

_“The dragon seems to have left his mark on you,”_ Jarett said, finally letting go Gilmore’s hand to give him a visual once-over that felt a bit intrusive. _“How may I be of assistance?”_

Gilmore hesitated, considering if it was worth owing this man a favor. Well. What choice did he have? Gilmore sighed. _“How are you with hair?”_ He could feel Jarett’s eyes on him again, judging. 

_“This style of hair is best crafted by a woman’s slender fingers. Not mine. But for you…”_ Gilmore waited, uncertain if Jarett was going to continue for a moment. _“I will do what I can. I had two sisters, so I am not completely useless. You have hair balm?”_

 _“Some,”_ Gilmore said. _“Though likely not enough.”_ He had a lot of hair, and had used much of his supply with Nafisa two nights ago.

Jarett nodded. _“I’ll bring mine from my quarters. And a turban, just in case…”_

 _“Don’t say that,”_ Gilmore whimpered. If it all broke off, he was going to go back and kill Thordak in earnest next time. 

*

It took Gilmore and Jarett working together over an hour just to get to a point where they could assess the damage. Granted, Gilmore couldn’t raise his arms above his waist, so there was only so much he could do. By the end, he sat surrounded by broken and burned strands of his own hair, trying his best not to cry. 

_“The turban, I think,”_ Jarett said, at last. _“For now.”_ Gilmore suddenly found a kerchief in his hand, and applied it liberally to the moisture issuing forth from his eyes. What a mess he must look, still wearing the remains of his cosmetics from the night before. _“I’ll tie it for you.”_ As Jarett wound up what was left of his hair, Gilmore gathered up the broken bits, storing them in a silk pouch. Once his magic returned, perhaps there was still something he could do. _“I’ll oil it for you when I come off shift in the morning,”_ Jarett promised. _“You should rest now.”_

 _“After a shock like this, I don’t think I have much choice.”_ Gilmore pondered death as a viable option to a life with uneven and burned hair. Once finished with the headwrap, Jarett knelt at the bedside again, and took Gilmore’s hand, which he had not had the foresight to hide beneath the blankets. 

_“Put aside your concern. You look every bit as lovely as before,”_ Jarett reassured him, kissing Gilmore’s hand once more. 

_“I honestly don’t know what to make of you,”_ Gilmore said. Jarett’s energy was so threatening, but his behavior so elegant. Curiouser still, he was certainly not the sort of man who loved men. So it remained to be seen what exactly he was up to. 

_“Good,”_ Jarett said, smiling, and took his leave. 

Gilmore sat, just staring at the door for some time, pondering. Mortals could be engaging puzzles.


	3. Turn Thy Wheel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the rest of Vox Machina fail miserably with the Clasp, Pike, Salda, and the children take care of Gilmore. Vax decides that Sherri is right about him, and proceeds to prove it.

Once she’d made sure all the remaining refugees had gotten dinner, Pike went up to Percy’s room to check on Gilmore. She found him awake, and in a good mood, which would have been a surprise if he’d been anyone but Gilmore. “Oh, I like your...scarf,” she said, indicating Gilmore’s silk hair wrap. “It’s pretty.” He nodded, taking the compliment graciously. 

He made small-talk while she worked on the smaller wounds on his neck, shoulder, and collar to make sure they were not infected. Pike wasn’t sure, but they looked kind of like...teeth marks? Hard to believe the shopkeep could have survived that, though. She’d barely survived Vorugal’s bite, and she’d been in full plate at the time. 

When Gilmore complained of being bored, Pike reluctantly offered a game of cards, though she reminded him he really should be resting. “How is my Vax’ildan?” he asked, as she shuffled the deck. 

Pike smiled, not sure how much she should say. “I think he’s good, considering everything. Definitely better now that you’re safe.” She watched Gilmore’s expression go soft as he smiled, looking down at the bedspread. “We’re all relieved that you’re okay.” 

“Thanks to you,” Gilmore said, beaming up at her. 

Pike blushed a little. Gilmore’s focused attention was a lot. “Oh, you don’t have to thank me for doing my job.” 

“All the same, you have my thanks.” She quickly dealt the cards so that his attention could be on something else. They talked while they played, and without Pike really noticing, Gilmore managed to get all of their plans out of her, where the rest of the gang were right now, and how each one of them was handling the stress of the whole...situation. Pike supposed it didn’t really matter. There was no reason why Gilmore shouldn’t know what was going on, except maybe that he shouldn’t have to worry about it. Less stress meant more healing, Poppa Wilhand had always said. 

As they were finishing up, the empress and her children came to see how Gilmore was doing, and he sweet-talked Pike into playing a few rounds of gin with them. Finally, after Gilmore and Pike had let the children win three hands, she insisted that he sleep, shooing everyone else out and tucking him in for the night. Pike sat down in Percy’s comfortable reading chair, which she’d pulled up to the bedside, and worked another healing to make sure Gilmore slept. Another hour went by. She got up to check his temperature, and was relieved to see that his fever had finally broken. 

Just then, Pike heard the sounds of everyone returning to the keep. Scanlan and the twins were at Percy’s door before she could go downstairs to greet them. “He’ll be alright,” she reassured them. “He’s going to pull through.” 

“That’s wonderful,” Vex said, looking relieved. Behind her, Vax was quiet, and he wore a moody, almost guilty expression. Pike didn’t understand it, but Vax could be like that. Often. 

“Is he unconscious still?” Vax asked, peering over her head into the room, trying to see if Gilmore was awake yet. 

“He’s been conscious throughout the day while you were gone,” Pike assured him. And when it looked like Vax was going to come into the room after she’d worked so hard to get Gilmore to sleep, she told him, “But he’s got to rest a bit more. He’s still had a rough few days.” Pike made sure they all left the room together. 

*

Vax waited in the shadows of the hall, listening to the sounds of everyone turning in for the night. He watched Percy’s door, thinking. Sherri had a point. Maybe he _was_ bad for Gilmore. Just last night, Gilmore had almost died searching the city for Vax, while he’d been safe at home. Even if one didn’t count that, Vax couldn’t deny he’d caused Gilmore a lot of pain. And he didn’t want to anymore. And yes, maybe--just maybe--he _was_ having a little bit of trouble accepting his feelings for Gilmore. Loving Keyleth was much easier, though Vax couldn’t say why. There was just nothing inside him resistant to the idea the way there was with Gilmore. Someone else might have taken a closer look at that, tried to determine the cause. But Vax was a man of action. 

It had been a rotten, exhausting day, emotionally, mentally, and physically. Gilmore wasn’t the only one who’d suffered. Percy had really torn into Keyleth after their failed negotiation with the Clasp, and she hadn’t deserved it. In the long run, Vax was certain they would all see Kiki had made the right decision. She was the only one of them with a conscience, after all. 

After the day they’d had, Vax wagered he was not the only one who could use some comfort. And it had been a full day of chances, of taking great risks, so he took his now. Gilmore was fast asleep, and needed his rest. It was now or never, Vax told himself. He was feeling less torn right now than he had in weeks. 

Keyleth opened the door when he knocked. “Hi.” She looked drained. 

“Hi,” Vax said. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”  _ Now or never. _ “Do you?” 

*

Gilmore lay on his back, staring up at the crushed velvet canopy of Percy’s bed. “Well. It couldn’t last forever,” he reminded himself. As much as Gilmore had appreciated the emotional display today, Fate seemed to have other plans. For a moment, he forgot everything and tried to turn onto his side, gasping with pain as he was reminded of his injuries. Gilmore settled back against his pillows with a grunt. What he wouldn’t give for his bed of gold right now. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply and immediately regretting it. Worse, Gilmore had never resented the sensitivity of his dragon hearing quite so much. “Fortune, good night,” he whispered. Gilmore didn’t have to ask Her to turn Her wheel; he could still feel it shifting beneath him. 


End file.
